


Time Flies (Back) When You're (Not) Having Fun

by AkozuHeiwa



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Angst, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Honorary Duck Family Member Webby Vanderquack, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Louie Duck Needs a Hug, So much angst, Time Travel, Whump, but especially Louie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2019-11-16 14:12:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18095882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkozuHeiwa/pseuds/AkozuHeiwa
Summary: After an accident occurs in their latest adventure, Louie uses their newest artefact to travel back in time in order to prevent anyone from getting hurt. Things... don't go perfectly.





	1. Chapter 1

“The Temporal Time Stone!”

A normal Wednesday, then, Louie muses as he leans back in his chair on the plane. Dewey, beside him, bounces eagerly in his seat. Huey pauses from taking notes to raise an eyebrow.

“Uh, ‘temporal’ and ‘time’ mean basically the same thing,” he says.

“Well, tell that to the lazy bum who named it.” Uncle Scrooge shrugs, then grins at them. “Legend has it that the Temporal Time Stone can send a user back in time.”

“Uh, can’t your cricket friend do that?” Dewey asks.

“Yeah, the Ghost of Christmas Past!” exclaims Huey.

“Wha – yes, he can – would you just listen?” Scrooge rubs his forehead then goes back into storyteller mode. “Now, legend has it that the Temporal Time Stone can send a user back in time to replace their younger self – but, once used, there’s no coming back. The original timeline is erased.”

“That’s so cool!” Dewey hops to his feet and punches a fist into the air. “And we’re gonna use it!”

“No!” Huey and Scrooge yell at the same time.

Dewey blinks.

“No,” says Scrooge. “We are not using the Temporal Time Stone. End of discussion. It’s far too dangerous and unpredictable.”

“Aw,” mutters Dewey. He sits back down and crosses his arms.

“So how much is it worth?” asks Louie.

“We’re not selling it, either,” says Scrooge. “Didn’t you just hear me say it’s dangerous?”

“Everything we find is dangerous,” Louie points out.

“And we don’t sell it,” says Scrooge. He glances out the window, then at Launchpad piloting the plane. “Alright. Buckle up, laddies. As usual, we’re in for a rough landing.”

Louie buckles his seatbelt. Huey forcefully buckles Dewey in before himself, because knowing Dewey he probably wouldn’t have. The landing is as rough as predicted. Louie braces himself with the edges of the seat as they slow to a stop.

They leave the plane and cough at the smoke and dust. Scrooge glances over them all to make sure they’re alright, before pulling out a map. Uncle Donald examines them a bit closer until they wave him off. Webby, as usual, looks secretly pleased to be included in the group of children that Scrooge and Donald are worried about. Launchpad, as usual, is unaffected by the crash.

“I should probably fix this up,” he says, narrowing his eyes.

“Probably,” says Uncle Donald with a glare. He’s never happy when they crash.

“Alright, then,” says Scrooge. “If this map is correct, we should be pretty close. Let’s see… aha! That cave!”

He points delightedly at an ominous-looking cave. Louie sighs. So much for the possibility of a relaxing adventure.

“Alright!” Dewey cheers. “Let’s go!”

“Remember, stick together,” Uncle Donald reminds them, glaring specifically at Dewey and Webby. Given their tendency to run off on their own, he has a point, but Louie kind of hopes that their running off days are over now that they know what happened to Mom.

“Yes, Uncle Donald,” the triplets chorus anyway, with Webby tacking on a slightly late, “Yes, Donald.”

They follow the adults into the cave. It looks like every other cave they’ve explored: dark, gloomy, dangerous. Louie starts absently imagining what today’s “Wait, what!?” might be. Maybe the Temporal Time Stone is cursed? Booby-trapped? Does removing it release some ancient evil?

“Isn’t this cool!?” Dewey gushes.

“It’s just a cave, Dewey,” says Louie.

“Okay, but look at these rock formations!” exclaims Huey, pulling out his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook. “Check it out! That’s–”

“Forget those rocks,” scoffs Dewey. “We’re finding a time-travelling rock!”

“That’s… not that cool,” admits Louie. “Especially since we can’t, you know. Use it. Or sell it.”

“ _Time. Travelling. Rock_ ,” Dewey stresses.

Scrooge chuckles from up ahead. “That’s right, lad, it is pretty cool. I’m glad one of you is excited about this.”

“I’m excited!” protests Huey.

“About all the wrong rocks,” Dewey teases.

Huey crosses his arms and pouts, but he’s quickly distracted by another stalactite or stalagmite or whichever one is on the ground.

“Shouldn’t be too far now,” mumbles Scrooge.

“That’s odd,” says Louie. “Where’s the booby-traps? The danger?”

“Dude, don’t jinx us,” says Dewey. Louie holds up his hands in surrender.

The cave really is boring, even if Louie appreciates the lack of potential death. Even Huey, who seemed to think the rocks here were the best in the world, seems to be getting bored the farther they walk. Dewey leans his head back and groans.

“Are we there yet?” he asks.

“No,” says Scrooge.

Dewey huffs. A second passes.

“Are we there _now_?”

“Oh, no,” mutters Huey.

Scrooge pauses and glances back. “No.”

“Okay, are we there _now_?”

“Will you – we’re no closer than we were two seconds ago!”

Uncle Donald puts a hand on his shoulder and shakes his head. “Just ignore him. He does this.”

Dewey makes an indignant noise. “What does _that_ mean?”

“It means you’re annoying, shut up,” says Louie.

Dewey makes an even more indignant noise and crosses his arms, but he does shut up, so Louie counts it as a win. It’s actually not that much farther, as it turns out. It’s only a few minutes of Dewey’s brooding before Scrooge lets out a loud, “Aha!”

Webby gasps excitedly. “We found it!?”

“That we did, lassie,” Scrooge says. “Now, let me go first, just in case–”

“Woah, time-travelling rock!” Dewey shouts, shooting forward into the new room before Scrooge or Uncle Donald can stop him. Huey face-palms.

“Dewey!” Scrooge and Uncle Donald both yell furiously, running in after him. The rest of them follow at a normal pace. Yet again, nothing happens. Dewey is reaching for the stone.

“Don’t touch it!” snaps Scrooge, batting his hand away. “Have I taught you nothing?”

Dewey laughs sheepishly. “Sorry, Uncle Scrooge.”

Scrooge rolls his eyes, then inspects the pedestal the stone is sitting on. It’s a blue-green rock – nothing too spectacular. It isn’t large. It’s shiny but it’s not gold. Really, it just looks like a sparkly rock to Louie.  

“Hmm… well, it doesn’t look to be booby-trapped,” says Scrooge. He picks it up. Louie mentally counts down for the “Wait, what!?” When it doesn’t occur for several seconds, he blinks and Scrooge shrugs. “Well, that was easy. Alright, kids, let’s go.”

He leads them out the door to the room, stone in hand. Louie glares around the room one last time, then follows with his family. The minute they all cross the threshold, the entire cave starts rumbling.

“Oh, no,” says Donald.

Ah.

So that’s the “Wait, what!?”

 

 

It’s not uncommon for the cave they’re exploring to fall in, so it’s almost routine to run screaming from the cave. That doesn’t mean Louie doesn’t hate running and screaming for his life as debris falls around him and his family.

“You jinxed us!” Dewey complains.

“I did not jinx us!” Louie snaps back.

“No one jinxed us, this always happens!” exclaims Huey in exasperation.

“Exactly!” says Louie. “Like I told you, ‘Woah!’, ‘Wait, what!?’, _Louie almost dies_!”

“We’re all almost dying!” Dewey points out, dodging a particularly large falling rock.

“Stop your yapping and keep running!” Scrooge yells to them. Uncle Donald sends them a glare as if to, for once, agree with the old adventurer.

Yeah, it’s pretty routine.

What’s not routine is for Louie to trip, just short of the exit. He should have been watching where he was going better, but, no, instead he hits a rock and sprawls painfully to the ground, leg twisting with the offending rock.

“Louie!” Dewey cries. The others turn, but Dewey is the one to run back to help Louie to his feet. Louie grimaces and Dewey’s face grows concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Kinda have to be,” Louie grits out. “Run!”

They aren’t fast, with Louie’s ankle definitely sprained and Dewey supporting him. They’re not going to make it in time. Dewy glances back, and his eyes widen.

“Louie, go!” he shouts, then grabs Louie, and, with strength Louie didn’t know his brother had, lifts him up and bodily tosses him forward. Donald catches Louie and pushes him behind him, rushing forward.

He’s too late. Louie has barely a glimpse of his brother’s face – more serious and resigned than Louie ever imagined seeing it – before Dewey is obscured by rocks and dust.

“No!” shrieks Uncle Donald.

“DEWEY!” Huey and Webby both scream, roughly at the same time.

Uncle Donald lets out a wordless cry and starts digging through the rocks. Scrooge and Huey join them a second later. Huey’s crying. Webby’s also crying. She shakes her head, eyes wide, and grasps onto Louie’s arm. Louie is frozen.

“Lad,” he hears Scrooge breathe. A white and blue and red form is pulled away from the debris. Louie gently removed Webby’s hands and takes a step forward.

That’s not his brother. That can’t be his brother. Dewey is always cheerful and lively and moving. He’s not still and red and twisted like that.

“Dewey?” he says hesitantly. Uncle Scrooge and Uncle Donald are checking him over. They can fix this. Louie takes another step, then falls to his knees beside Uncle Donald and his brother. “Dewey? Dewey, wake up.”

Why is he so still? His chest isn’t moving and there’s so much red. Red isn’t Dewey’s colour, it’s Huey’s, so why is Dewey covered in it?

Uncle Scrooge presses his fingers to Dewey’s neck, curses, then starts pressing down on Dewey’s chest. Louie starts to crawl closer, but Uncle Donald grabs him and holds him to his side, Huey and Webby on his other. Webby is sobbing into Huey’s shoulder. Huey’s eyes are wide; it’s as if he can’t look away. Uncle Scrooge breathes into Dewey’s beak, then resumes chest compressions.

What did Huey call it? CPR? But – that’s for people who weren’t breathing, right? Surely Dewey is at least breathing.

This continues for several minutes. Uncle Scrooge looks more and more desperate. Something in Louie’s chest tightens. Finally, Uncle Scrooge leans back, tears dripping down his cheeks. There’s something like disbelief in his eyes, and the same expression Scrooge got when talking about their mother taking the Spear of Selene. Louie doesn’t want to call it grief. That implies – that implies there’s something to grieve for here.

“Why won’t Dewey wake up?” Louie asks hesitantly. Uncle Donald’s breath catches and tears well in Huey’s eyes and he buries his face in Uncle Donald’s side, shaking with sobs. “Uncle Donald? Tell Dewey to get up.”

“Uncle Scrooge?” Uncle Donald says, not answering Louie.

Uncle Scrooge closes his eyes and shakes his head.

Uncle Donald lets out a rough breath and pulls Louie, Huey, and Webby closer to him. He’s shaking too. Louie doesn’t understand. He tears away from Uncle Donald and runs to Dewey’s side.

“Dewey, wake up,” he orders, grasping his older brother by the shoulders. “Wake up so we can go home. Dewey. Wake up!”

Nothing. No response.

“Lad,” says Scrooge softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. Louie bats him away, tears blurring his vision.

“Come on, Dewey,” he pleads. “Just – wake up. Why aren’t you breathing? Come on, you – you stupid-head, wake up!”

“Louie,” says Scrooge, pulling him away and turning him to face him. His brow is pulled low and his eyes are bright with tears. “He’s gone.”

Louie shakes his head. “No – no, no, no – you’re lying. He’s not – he’s not _dead_. He’s Dewey.”

Behind him, Huey makes an audible, choking sob. Uncle Donald holds him and Webby tighter. Louie jerks away from Uncle Scrooge to grab his brother again. Dewey still doesn’t move. There’s so much red, and Louie’s beginning to realise that it’s blood.

“I’m sorry I called you annoying earlier,” he says. “Okay? You’re not annoying. Don’t shut up. Wake up and – Dewey, come _on_ , this isn’t funny!”

Uncle Scrooge pulls him away and into a hug. He’s crying – really crying – just as much as Uncle Donald and Huey and Webby, and Louie’s realising that this isn’t a joke. This is real.

He pulls away again to stare at Dewey. His brother still hasn’t moved, and he’s not going to. And it’s Louie’s fault. If he hadn’t tripped, Dewey wouldn’t have gone back for him, and if Dewey hadn’t gone back for him, then Dewey wouldn’t be–

Dead. His brother is _dead_.

The world spins into blackness, and the last thing Louie registers is Scrooge catching him before he passes out.


	2. Chapter 2

When Louie wakes up, he’s in his bed in the mansion. It’s daylight, but he can’t tell what time of day. He sits up and looks around, then sighs in relief.

A bad dream. That’s all.

Still, he clambers up to Dewey’s bed to check on his brother, even though he knows he’ll be made fun of for it later. It’s not the first time he’s had a nightmare about losing his brothers, though the dreams are never that vivid and violent. Dewey usually holds off the teasing for an hour or so, but it all comes back to bite Louie eventually.

But there’s no Dewey.

That’s odd.

He climbs back down, then realises his leg is sore – and wrapped up. That’s also odd. He doesn’t remember hurting it, except in the dream. Okay. Maybe only the last part was a dream then. He wanders into the living room. Huey and Webby are sitting with Mrs. Beakley. They look morose, but Huey catches his eye and a spark of relief is there.

“Louie, thank goodness,” he says, sliding off the couch to walk towards him. “I was worried.”

“Uh,” says Louie, unease settling in his chest. “Guys, I just had the craziest nightmare. Do, uh, do you know where Dewey is?”

Huey freezes. Webby’s eyes widen and Mrs. Beakley’s soften.

“Oh, child,” she murmurs.

“Louie, I – it wasn’t a nightmare,” says Huey. His voice is uneven, hesitant, un-Huey-like.

Louie laughs unsurely. “You don’t even know what my nightmare was. I dreamt that Dewey – you know–” he makes a cutthroat motion– “so that’s not possibly… real…”

The others aren’t reassuring with him or agreeing. Why aren’t they agreeing?

“That wasn’t real,” he repeats, taking a step back. “Guys, where’s Dewey? This isn’t funny.”

Huey’s eyes well up. “Louie… it wasn’t a nightmare.”

“No – no, no, no,” says Louie. “You’re lying – you’re lying!”

“What’s the matter in here?” comes Uncle Donald’s voice. Louie spins to face him, blinking liquid from his eyes and pointing at his brother.

“Huey’s playing a very mean trick on me,” he says. Huey looks helpless. Part of Louie is starting to think it’s not a trick, but he pushes that part down. “Where’s – where’s Dewey?”

Uncle Donald’s expression crumples. “Oh, Louie.”

“Not you too,” says Louie, voice wavering.

Uncle Donald walks forward and kneels in front of Louie, putting his hands on his shoulders.

“Louie,” he says softly.

Louie swallows harshly. “It wasn’t a dream.”

Uncle Donald shakes his head. Arms wrap around Louie’s shoulders, and it takes a second to realise it’s Huey – it has to be. He knows it’s one of his brothers but now he only _has_ one brother.

The thought is enough to send Louie crashing to his knees. He suddenly can’t breathe. He feels sick.

“Breathe, Louie,” Huey mumbles in his ear. “It’s okay.”

Louie pushes him away. “Okay!? _Okay_!? I got Dewey _killed_!”

He sucks in a sharp breath. Now he’s said that out loud. Huey and Uncle Donald both look stunned. Huey’s face crumples into devastation. Uncle Donald reaches out to him.

“Louie, no,” starts Uncle Donald.

Louie turns and runs out of the room as best as his injured leg will let him. It must not be as bad as he thought in the cave, but that makes him bitter. Dewey came back to save him and died because he did and Louie wasn’t even that injured. It wasn’t fair.

He found himself back in their room and in Dewey’s bed. It couldn’t have been long ago – Louie had probably been out an hour or two at most since they got home. They should have all gotten home. Louie would give anything if he could just do everything over again and save Dewey.

Wait.

_Wait_.

“The Temporal Time Stone,” he says aloud. He hops off the bed and winces as it jars his injured leg, but he ignores it and runs out of the room. He’s not sure where Scrooge would have put it, but it must be nearby. Maybe his office?

When he makes it to Scrooge’s office, it seems that his rich uncle isn’t even in there. The stone is, though. Louie makes a beeline for the stone. He can fix this – _he can fix this_.

A black cane stops him. Louie spins to face Uncle Scrooge in outrage.

“Louie,” Uncle Scrooge says.

“You have to let me do this,” he pleads.

“It’s too dangerous,” says Scrooge. “I’m sorry, Louie. You can’t.”

Rage boils in Louie’s chest. He balls his fists and blinks back tears. “He’s my brother! You have to let me save him! You can’t tell me you haven’t thought of using it too.”

Scrooge sighs. “Of course I have. Even before we found it, I wanted to use it. But it’s too unpredictable.”

“What, for my mother?” demands Louie. Scrooge looks away. “This is different! That was ten years ago, this was – today! What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You could both die,” Scrooge snaps. “All of us could die. You could set off an ancient prophecy or release an ancient evil. It’s not–”

“What, worth it?” Louie bites out. “Because _family is too much trouble_? Dewey’s not worth it?”

Scrooge’s beak curls in a deep frown. “You know that’s not–”

“He’s my brother!”

“He’s _my_ nephew!”

They glare at each other. Louie feels betrayed. Surely, if anything is worth the risk, it’s Dewey’s life.

Scrooge’s face softens and he sighs.

“Time and death are not things to be meddled with,” says Scrooge. “Trust me. I know. I would give everything I own to save your brother, but time travel is not the answer.”

Time travel still sounds like the answer, but Scrooge leads him out of the room, away from the Temporal Time Stone.

Fine. He’ll make a plan first. That’s what he’s good at – being sharper than the sharpies. If Uncle Scrooge is one of the sharpies he has to be sharper than, then so be it.

 

 

Louie tries to isolate himself to plan, mostly because time spent with (what’s left of) his family is depressing. He refuses to let himself think of Dewey as gone, because he’s going to get him back. The others don’t know his plan – all they know is that Dewey isn’t there and never coming back. So Louie avoids them.

He can’t avoid the funeral.

He wishes he could have avoided the funeral, because it feels so final. Even though he knows he’s going to fix this, some part of him worries. What if he can’t? What if he makes things worse? What if Uncle Scrooge is right?

He makes himself ignore those questions so he can be the strong one. Huey can’t hold himself together any longer. He’s been trying so hard but it all crashes down when Dewey is lowered into the ground. He keeps apologising – why? This was Louie’s fault, not his, so what does Huey have to be sorry for? Louie guesses it’s because he’s the oldest, but three extra seconds in the world doesn’t mean he could have saved Dewey. Or maybe he could have, but then Louie probably still would have been short a triplet, so that would be no use.

He’s also never seen Uncle Scrooge and Uncle Donald cry this much. Uncle Donald has been refusing to talk to Scrooge, and he refuses to sit near him, too. Louie’s pretty sure Uncle Donald blames Scrooge. That isn’t fair either. Both men look broken. Louie wonders if this is how Uncle Donald felt when Mom – left. It hurts. He pushes it down.

People Louie’s never met come to the funeral. Louie wants to punch some of them. They aren’t helping. None of their words help. He knows they’re trying, but what can they possibly do? Dewey is _dead_. If it weren’t for the Temporal Time Stone, there’d be no coming back from that.

Uncle Donald curls up with both of them on the houseboat back home. As much as Louie wants to fix this as soon as possible, on the off chance the stone is a dud, he sits with his uncle and remaining brother. They need this. Huey hugs him close and Uncle Donald hugs both of them at once. In a way, Louie hopes the timeline is totally erased – the alternative that he’d be leaving Huey all alone, the last triplet left standing – it’s kind of horrifying.

“I’m sorry I let this happen,” says Uncle Donald softly.

Louie shakes his head. “It wasn’t your fault, Uncle Donald. And it wasn’t Uncle Scrooge’s, either.”

“It wasn’t yours, either,” murmurs Huey. “I’m the oldest, I should have been the one–”

Uncle Donald’s grip tightens. “No one should have – no one should have died.”

Louie rubs his eyes. No more tears. He’ll fix this.

 

 

They slept in the houseboat that night. Louie sneaks out while Uncle Donald and Huey are asleep. The Temporal Time Stone is still in Scrooge’s office. He wonders if Uncle Scrooge really thought he gave up or if some part of Scrooge wants him to do this as much as Louie does.

He grabs the stone and stares at it.

“Take me back,” he says, before realising he should be more specific in case it sends him back to infancy or something. “The day we left. Before we left. Just take me back.”

It’s not working.

“Come on,” he pleads, tears welling in his eyes. “Come on, you have to work.”

Still nothing. Not even a glow.

“Please. Please, just let me save him.”

His fingers tighten on the stone. It mocks him, still and dull.

“ _Let me save my brother_!” he shouts, falling to his knees and slamming the rock to the ground. There’s a bright flash and a cracking noise, then silence. He’s still in Scrooge’s office. It’s still dark. The stone is still in his hands, except now it’s broken into several sharp pieces.

“No,” he whispers, tears spilling over and to the floor. “No, no, no.”

It’s broken. His only chance to save Dewey is _broken_. He ruined it.

He curls around the pieces of the stone, sobbing. He’ll never save his brother now. That’s it. Dewey’s gone forever, and it’s his fault, and he can’t save him, and it’s _all his fault_.

Then the shards begin to glow. Louie’s eyes widen, vision still blurred by tears, as the glow intensifies, then–

Everything goes black.

 

 

When Louie wakes up, he’s in his bed in the mansion, curled around shards of stone. He blinks at them, because if Uncle Scrooge or Uncle Donald found him and carried him to bed, why would they bring these too? Then he hears Huey drop to the floor by his bed.

“G’morning, Louie!” he says brightly. Louie shoves the shards under his pillow. His brother doesn’t seem to notice. “You’re up early!”

“And you’re… oddly cheerful,” says Louie. He doesn’t want to admit that he tried and failed. Somehow he thinks it will make things worse. Huey will be mad at him for trying, just like Scrooge was for the idea. Time and death aren’t to be messed with, or whatever.

“Always good to start off the morning right!” says Huey. “I’m going to get breakfast, coming?”

Louie narrows his eyes. “In a minute.”

Huey’s brow furrows. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah,” says Louie. “I’m – I’m fine, go on ahead.”

“Okay,” says Huey uneasily. He leaves anyway. Louie waits a half a second, then peers at the shards. Then, hoping against hope, he clambers up to Dewey’s bed. His leg doesn’t hurt anymore.

Dewey isn’t there.

Louie swallows back the sharp disappointment. He broke the stone. What did he expect?

“Good morning, Louie!” sings a very familiar, very unexpected voice. Louie falls off the bed to stare up from the ground at Dewey’s very cheery, grinning face. His dead brother pulls him to his feet and tilts his head. “Uh, so, what were you doing in my bed?”

Louie does the only logical thing.

He faints.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My update schedule is not usually this good but this story has me inspired so maybe I'll finish it in a timely fashion. Who knows? I'd say this should be it for the worst of the angst, but I do know myself. Oh well! Thank you all for reading! Love you guys!


	3. Chapter 3

“What did you _do_?”

“I don’t know what happened, he just passed out!”

“Shhh, he’s waking up!”

Louie groans and turns, covering his eyes for a second before finally sitting up in bed. He blinks groggily at his brothers and Webby, all three watching him worriedly.

Wait.

Brothers, _plural_.

“Dewey!” he exclaims, launching forward to hug his brother, his very much alive brother. He laughs elatedly. “I did it! Oh, I did it, yes!”

Dewey laughs uneasily and pats his back. “Uh, hey, Louie, what did you do?”

Louie doesn’t let go. How can he? The last time he saw Dewey, he was dead, and now he’s alive.  Instead, he tightens his grip and squeezes his eyes shut against tears.

“Be nice,” warns Huey lowly to Dewey. A hand falls on Louie’s back. “Uh, Louie, did you have a nightmare?”

“A nightmare!” says Louie, laughing in relief. “Yes, a nightmare, exactly.”

“Must’ve been a pretty bad one,” says Webby. She perks up. “Oh! I’ll go get hot chocolate, that always cheers me up after a nightmare!”

She runs out of the room. Louie finally releases Dewey, who looks quite frankly stunned by the sudden show of affection. The three of them sit on Louie’s bed, Louie sandwiched in between his brothers.

“You haven’t had a nightmare like that in years,” mumbles Huey. “You wanna talk about it?”

Louie remembers what Dewey looked like after the cave-in, how broken the rest of their family became, and shakes his head. “I’m just glad it’s over.”

Dewey scans his face worriedly for a second, and Louie wipes away his tears and smiles at his very alive brother.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asks.

Louie nods. “Yeah – yeah, I’m fine, now.”

“Great,” says Dewey brightly, “because adventure is calling our names!”

Louie’s smile falls.

“What adventure?”

“The Temporal Time Stone!” Scrooge’s voice rings from the doorway. Webby is with him, holding a mug of what must be hot chocolate. Scrooge shuffles unsurely, especially at the look that must be on Louie’s face now. “Ah, good morning, lads. Webby tells me you had a nightmare? You sure you’re up for it today?”

“Actually, I’m definitely not,” he says. “Nope, we should _not_ adventure today. Too risky. I’m out of it. Could trip. Someone could get hurt or worse – nope, better to stay in. Game night?”

It doesn’t work this time. Uncle Scrooge just looks more worried.

“Bad nightmare?” he guesses. “Huey, Dewey… why don’t you two go get breakfast?”

“But–”

Scrooge shoots Huey a look. Huey sighs and nods. Dewey gives Louie a pat on the shoulder – Louie almost asks him to stay but decides against it last minute. Webby shoves the cocoa mug into his hands with a bright smile before scampering after his brothers. Scrooge sits next to him on the bed.

“You really don’t want to go on this adventure?” he asks.

“Nope,” Louie says.

“I suppose… you could stay here with your Uncle Donald.”

“No!” Louie shouts. “No, no, nobody should go. We should all stay here where it’s safe.”

“That nightmare shook you up,” says Scrooge.

Louie wishes it had only been a nightmare, that his brother’s broken, dead body had been nothing but a figment of his overactive imagination. He takes a sip of the hot chocolate.

“I just think this adventure is a bad idea,” he says. “Why go find a time-travelling rock? It’s just tempting us to mess with it.”

Scrooge’s eyes narrow. “How did you know what the Temporal Time Stone does?”

“Uh, lucky guess,” says Louie quickly, eyes darting to the pillow then back to Scrooge. Scrooge’s eyes follow.

Oh, he shouldn’t have done that.

Scrooge lifts up the pillow. The shattered stone is still there, and Scrooge seems to recognise it.

“You didn’t have a nightmare, did you, lad?” he asks, picking up a few shards and examining them. “This is the Temporal Time Stone.”

For a moment, Louie contemplates lying. No, that’s not the Temporal Time Stone, why would Scrooge think that? But Scrooge’s deep frown stops him in his tracks, and he fiddles with the edge of his hoodie.

“Yeah,” he says. “It is.”

“Future me must have lost his mind to let you use this!”

“Future you didn’t,” Louie snaps. “You wouldn’t let me. You said it was too dangerous.”

“It is!”

“Well, I don’t care!”

They glare at each other. Scrooge is the first to sigh and look away, turning a shard over in his hands.

“Usually you listen to me,” he says. “I would have expected Dewey to be the one to use this thing.”

Louie flinches.

“Well, you’re here now.” Scrooge takes off his top hat and rubs his head. “You mustn’t change anything. No matter what you think you’re fixing, you have to let it go.”

“I can’t do that,” Louie says.

“You have to,” says Scrooge. “Time is not to be–”

“I know, time and death are not to be meddled with!” Louie snatches the shard away from the older duck. He stares at his distorted reflection in it. Scrooge looks stunned, then sad.

“I see,” he mumbles.

“It was my fault,” Louie admits. “I’m not letting it happen again. Don’t try and stop me.”

“Alright,” says Uncle Scrooge. “You’re here now. And if someone – well. I can’t ask you to do nothing. I _do_ ask that you change as little as possible. Time is fragile.”

Louie wipes his eyes with an arm again, then nods.

“I guess that means we have to go on this adventure, after all,” he says.

“You don’t have to come.”

“No,” says Louie. “If I don’t, I’m changing even more – and I can’t save–”

“You probably shouldn’t tell me any details, lad,” Scrooge warns. “At least, not until after. Then, if you need someone to talk to…”

Louie hugs him. Scrooge stiffens, then wraps his own arms around Louie.

“I’ll make things right,” Louie says.

“I know you will, Louie,” says Scrooge.

 

 

So they end up piled into the plane again. Huey keeps sending him worried looks that Louie tries to ignore. Dewey is bouncing eagerly in his seat as Scrooge runs over the basics of the Temporal Time Stone.

“And we’re going to use it!” Dewey yells excitedly.

“No!” This time, Louie joins Huey and Scrooge in shooting down the idea.

“It’s far too dangerous,” says Scrooge, meeting Louie’s eyes. “If it were to be used, I would hope it was a worst case scenario.”

“Aw.” Dewey deflates and slumps in his seat. Louie pats him on the shoulder.

Scrooge glances out the window, then at Launchpad, then sighs. “Alright, buckle up, laddies. As usual, we’re in or a rough landing.”

Louie first makes sure Dewey is buckled in – it would be just his luck for Dewey to die in a plane crash instead – before sitting and buckling himself. Huey’s eyebrows raise as he buckles his seatbelt. He’s usually the one to make sure the younger two are safe, so Louie bets that his sudden concern is confusing his oldest brother.

It’s basically the same landing. Scrooge looks a bit more worried than last time, but at Louie subtle headshake, he pulls out his map.

“Alright, then,” he says. “If this map is correct, we should be pretty close. Let’s see… aha! That cave!”

Louie freezes as he stares at the cave. He does not want to go back in there. Images of falling rocks and Uncle Donald and Uncle Scrooge digging out Dewey’s lifeless body appear in his mind and he takes an unconscious step back.

“Alright!” Dewey cheers. “Let’s go!”

“Remember, stick together,” Uncle Donald says. He glares specifically at Dewey and Webby again. Dewey better not sneak off and get himself killed again. Louie will be furious. Like, Uncle Donald level furious.

“Yes, Uncle Donald,” Huey and Dewey chorus, with Webby adding, “Yes, Donald.”

Uncle Donald narrows his eyes at Louie.

“Yes, Uncle Donald,” he tacks on late.

They follow the adults into the cave. Huey keeps giving him his older brother looks. Louie expects he doesn’t look too great right now. Being back in the cave Dewey died in isn’t really fun. He keeps glancing up at the ceiling, as if it might fall in at any moment.

“Isn’t this cool?” gushes Dewey.

“Yeah,” says Louie uneasily. “Sure. Cool.”

“Are you okay, Louie?” asks Huey.

“No, I’m fine, I’m fine,” he says. He points at the nearest large rock. “Hey, what’s that?”

Huey’s eyes light up. “Oooh, that’s a–”

“Forget about those rocks!” scoffs Dewey. “We’re finding a time-travelling rock!”

“Yay,” says Louie unenthusiastically.

They fall silent. Louie wishes it wasn’t such a long walk to the Stone. Maybe then it wouldn’t take so long to get out. Come to think of it, would the stone even be there? Louie still has shards of it in his hoodie pockets. Is that a paradox? Is he going to break time by bringing those shards along?

He really didn’t think this through.

Dewey opens his mouth to begin his “Are we there yet?”s. Louie really can’t today.

“If you start, I will tape your beak shut,” he says.

Dewey’s beak snaps shut.

“Seriously, Louie, are you okay?” asks Huey again.

“My nightmare put me on edge, that’s all,” Louie says defensively.

“Nightmare?” says Uncle Donald. “What nightmare?”

“Louie had a nightmare,” Dewey says. “He freaked out this morning, kept hugging me – I thought he pranked me ‘cause he kept saying he did it. And now he’s being weird.”

“I’m not being weird,” Louie mutters, shoving his hands in his pockets and curling them around the shards.

Ahead of them, Scrooge almost trips. Louie suspects he’s put together who died, then, judging by the wide-eyed look he sends Dewey then Louie. Louie’s grip tightens to the point that the shards are uncomfortable in his hands.

“Oh, maybe we shouldn’t have come, then,” mutters Uncle Donald.

“No, I’m fine,” Louie insists. He spots the door before a shaken Scrooge does. “Oh, look, is that it?”

Scrooge blinks and shakes his head in surprise. “That it is, lad. Now, let me go in first, just in case–”

“Time-travelling rock!” shouts Dewey, shooting forward into the room before anyone can stop him. Huey face-palms.

“Dewey!” Scrooge and Uncle Donald both yell. Uncle Donald sounds furious, but Uncle Scrooge sounds terrified. That… makes sense, since he just figured out that Dewey died in the future but not how. The two adults sprint in. The rest follow at a normal pace. Dewey is reaching for the stone, somehow still there.

Uncle Scrooge grabs him and hauls him away, clearly relieved. “Don’t touch it. Have I taught you _nothing_?”

Dewey laughs sheepishly. “Sorry, Uncle Scrooge.”

“Hmm,” says Scrooge. “It doesn’t look to be booby-trapped.”

He glances at Louie, who shrugs, and then he picks it up. Nothing happens. He blinks. “Well, that was easy. Alright, kids, let’s go.”

They walk out of the room. Louie mentally prepares to run. The cave begins to rumble the second the Temporal Time Stone crosses the threshold. Louie flinches, and suddenly he’s back in this same cage, except Dewey’s throwing him out of harm’s way and disappearing beneath the rocks and he can’t move, his brother’s dead and it’s his fault–

“–ouie! Louie, snap out of it!” Dewey’s voice brings him back to reality. “We gotta go!”

Louie shakes his head. When did he fall?

“Right, yes,” he says. Dewey pulls him to his feet. They all start running. Uncle Donald and Uncle Scrooge make sure the kids are in the front, this time. Louie tries to keep an eye out for rocks so he doesn’t trip.

They make it out.

They _all_ make it out.

They cut it closer this time, for all of them, and they’re left coughing up dust and dirt. Dewey is on his hands and knees but he’s alive, not crushed by rocks, and Louie grabs him in a tearful hug.

“We made it,” he chokes out. “We all made it!”

Dewey laughs breathlessly. “Yeah. Just another adventure. How’d you say it? Woah, wait, what? Louie almost dies?”

Louie tightens his grip. “No one died. _No one died_.”

Huey joins them in the group hug, then Webby, then Donald, and finally Scrooge. The others may not understand why he’s so elated – they always survive, why is this time different? – but the relief is sharp and desperate and he did it. He saved his brother.

The shards in his pocket grow warm.

He doesn’t question it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on a roll! Louie succeeded! Yay! Dewey's no longer dead! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, I'm surprised it already exists. Love you guys!


	4. Chapter 4

After it’s all over, Scrooge pulls him aside, mostly to check if he’s done messing with the timeline. He seems equally concerned when Louie doesn’t want to talk about it.

“It’s fine, now,” Louie assures him. “We’re all alive and that’s what matters.”

Scrooge still looks worried, but then Dewey calls Louie over and Louie can’t say no to his once-more alive brother, so he runs over to join in whatever game Dewey wants to play.

So Louie puts it behind him, for the most part. Dewey’s alive, Scrooge was wrong, and everything is fine. He keeps the shards in his pocket to remind him not to take his siblings for granted and gets on with his life.

Except it doesn’t take long to realise Dewey is an _idiot_.

They aren’t even on an adventure when it clicks. They’re running around the mansion, and Louie had never realised how dangerous the mansion could be until now, when Dewey just about trips _down the stairs._

Louie catches him by the collar and pulls him back. Dewey laughs, unfazed by the near-death experience.

“Sorry,” he says, as if he didn’t just give Louie a heart attack. “Okay, race ya–”

“No more running!” Louie exclaims.

Dewey blinks at him. “Uh, that kind of takes the fun out of a race.”

“You almost fell down the stairs!”

Dewey shrugs, unconcerned. “Yeah, okay, not the first time. Race ya!”

He takes off. Louie groans. Huey raises an eyebrow.

“Not that I’m not glad to see another one of us taking interest in safety,” he says, “but are you okay?”

“ _Dewford_ is going to get himself killed,” Louie seethes, before taking off after his idiot brother and leaving the smart one behind. After all the work Louie did to save his life, can’t Dewey just – stay in one place? Preferably with a helmet. And maybe bubble-wrap.

Has Dewey always been so – so – Dewey? No, wait, that actually answers that question: yes, he has. Louie had just previously assumed that because he was so _Dewey_ he couldn’t die, and that clearly isn’t true. So now Louie has to make sure he doesn’t die.

He’s beginning to realise that isn’t going to be easy.

 

 

Their first adventure after Dewey’s not-death goes as well as Louie expects.

They leave around noon, the day that would have been Dewey’s funeral but now is just a totally normal day. Scrooge piles the lot of them into the plane. It’s almost a relief to be out of the house, because now that Louie’s paying attention, the mansion is kind of a death trap. The plane is a death trap too, actually, especially with Launchpad piloting. Louie makes sure Dewey is buckled before they even take off.

“Dude, not cool,” mutters Dewey. He goes to unbuckle, but Louie pulls out a roll of duct tape and brandishes it threateningly and his blue-clad brother baulks.

“Okay,” laughs Huey uneasily, taking the tape away. “Louie, you’re being a bit… much.”

“Relax!” says Scrooge brightly. “This adventure’s perfectly safe. Eh, probably.”

“What are we looking for?” asks Dewey, still managing to be full of energy even constrained by the seatbelt. “A lost relic? And ancient treasure? A CURSED AMULET!”

“No curses!” squawks Louie.

“Curses!” cheers Webby.

Huey rubs his forehead in exasperation.

“The lost plays of William Drakespeare,” says Scrooge. He’s enthusiastic about it in the way only old people who actually like old theatre can be.

“The lost plays of William Drakespeare!”

Oh, yeah, and Huey. How could he forget?

Huey’s practically vibrating in his seat now, and given how much he’d loved Drakespeare in school, Louie’s not surprised at all. Scrooge looks pleased by his show of excitement. Dewey, meanwhile, deflates like a popped balloon.

“Ugh, that sounds boring,” he complains.

“William Drakespeare is only the best English poet there ever was!” Huey gushes. “He wrote such amazing plays – remember, we read one in class!”

“Oh, those are some of the plays Granny gave me growing up!” Webby beams. “I really liked them. There’s more? It’s like a sequel!”

“Boo,” says Dewey. “I think I slept through the Drakespeare unit.”

“No, I slept through that,” Louie corrects. “You doodled all over the desk. And textbooks. And yourself.”

“Hmm, right,” agrees Dewey, looking like he wishes he had a marker to doodle all over himself again.

“Sleeping through Drakespeare,” mutters Scrooge in disdain. He shakes his head and pulls out a very large book Louie would be fine _not_ inheriting. “Well! This is the complete works of William Drakespeare – except his last, lost play, which I found a note about in ancient, invisible ink!”

“They had invisible ink back then?” asks Dewey. “That was, like, when you were a kid!”

Scrooge scowls at him. “I’m not _that_ old.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” says Louie. “So, Drakespeare. Boring, stuffy, no danger whatsoever?”

“Shouldn’t be,” says Scrooge.

Louie sighs in relief. “Thank goodness.”

“That’s no fun,” whines Dewey. “Where’s the action? The booby-traps? Something fun like last time, with the suspense and the cave-in!”

Scrooge cringes. Louie’s eye ticks.

“That was not fun!” he snaps. “That was dangerous! More dangerous than usual, you could have _died_!”

“Dude, we all could have died, it’s normal,” says Dewey. Louie bites his tongue to stop himself from blurting out that Dewey _did_ die and that’s why that adventure goes firmly in the not-fun list. “Adventure is all about almost dying – but not!”

“That’s… not what adventure is about,” says Huey.

“Eh, a little bit,” admits Scrooge. Louie and Huey both glare at him. He grins sheepishly. “Well, this adventure, no one will almost die. It should be perfectly fine.”

“Boring!” Dewey exclaims, throwing his hands in the air and crossing them in front of him with a huff. A voice in the back of Louie’s head that sounds a lot like Huey points out that the way Dewey is sitting isn’t really safe if they crash.

Okay, yeah, now he’s getting a bit obsessive. He pushes that thought away.

“I, for one, look forward to a relaxing adventure for once,” says Louie, leaning back and crossing his arms behind his head. No danger means less worrying about his idiot brother. Yeesh, how has Huey done it all these years? Maybe Louie needs to get his hands on a Junior Woodchuck Guidebook – maybe that’s his secret.

It takes _hours_ to get to wherever it is they’re going, and at one point, Louie must’ve fallen asleep, because he’s woken by Launchpad’s, “Brace for crash-landing!”

“Don’t you mean landing?” Louie asks groggily.

Dewey, who clearly has not slept and may have gotten his hands on coffee _which is a bad idea_ , scoffs. “How many times have we flown with Launchpad.”

Louie sinks in his seat. “Point.”

The landing is as jarring as usual, but it wakes Louie up fully. Honestly, he’s just glad he didn’t have any more nightmares like he’s been having recently. Maybe they’re finally going away the more time passes with both of his brothers alive and well.

As soon as they’ve rolled to a mostly stop, Dewey unbuckles and runs towards the door, Webby close behind. Louie panics and runs after them, and Scrooge and Huey follow at a normal pace.

“A castle!” Dewey exclaims.

Sure enough, they’ve crashed right outside a castle. It’s kind of impressive. Louie hopes Scrooge is right and it isn’t booby-trapped or anything.

“The Castle of William Drakespeare,” says Scrooge. “Come along, kids. The lost play awaits!”

“No wandering off,” Louie hisses to Dewey.

Dewey frowns at him. “What’s your issue? You’re being weird.”

“Well, maybe if you weren’t so reckless, Huey and I wouldn’t have to worry about you so much.”

“Hey, don’t bring me into this,” protests Huey. “Uh – wait, why are you two arguing?”

“Louie’s being weird,” says Dewey.

“Is that all you can say right now?” Louie asks dryly.

“No fighting, kids,” says Scrooge. “Leave your brother alone, Dewey, he means well.”

“Oh, sure, take his side,” Dewey mutters.

Louie shoves his hands in his pockets to curl around the shards. They’re pretty warm, but Louie expects that’s because they’ve been surrounded by cloth for so long. Sometimes he kind of wants to strangle his brother, but that does go against keeping him alive, so he resists the urge.

For the most part, though dreary, the castle seems booby-trap free. Louie is relieved. All he has to worry about is staircases, maybe a few loose rocks, not that deadly and easy to keep Dewey safe from.

“Which of you is good at riddles?” calls Scrooge.

“Me!” Huey, Webby, and Louie all yell at once. They blink at each other. Louie mentally admits that the other two are probably better, but sometimes he’s good at riddles. Scrooge sighs.

“Well, all of you, then,” he says, gesturing towards a plaque on the wall.

The three of them walk forward. Dewey crosses his arms and huffs. Louie almost feels bad about leaving his brother out, but Dewey’s really not great with riddles.

“Oooh, a Drakespeare puzzle!” squeals Webby.

Huey’s eyes light up. Louie takes one look at the iambic pentameter ( _yes_ , he knows what that is) and goes, “Nope.”

However, by the time he’s turned back around, Dewey is gone.

Dewey is _gone_.

Two seconds, he looked away for two seconds!

“We lost Dewey!” Louie shrieks. Panic grips him. He’s not ready to be Huey and Louie, and he’s pretty sure this was his only chance, and if Dewey’s gone and gotten himself killed, that’s it, he’s _dead_ -dead.

The others turn. None of them look remotely as alarmed as Louie feels, which is kind of offensive. Louie is not overreacting. Who knows what’s in this castle? Just because Scrooge doesn’t think it’s booby-trapped doesn’t mean it isn’t! Louie does not have time to deal with this today.

“Eh, he’ll be fine,” says Scrooge. They return their attention to the riddle, apparently unconcerned about the disaster triplet _running off on his own to get killed_.

“I have to do everything around here!” Louie grumbles. He sticks his hands in his pockets again and is about to go find Dewey, but when his fingers touch the shards he yanks them out with a yelp because they’re no longer warm, they’re hot. Like, burn Louie’s fingers hot.

“Louie?” says Huey anxiously, by his side in an instant. The riddle is forgotten as big brother mode takes over and he grabs Louie’s hands to inspect the burns.

“What’s the matter, lad?” asks Scrooge, brow furrowed.

“What happened to your hands…?” mumbles Huey.

Louie jerks away from him and wraps his hands in his sleeves to pull out the shards. They’re glowing faintly. Huey’s eyes widen, even if Louie is pretty sure his brother has no idea what the shards are from.

“Woah,” whispers Webby.

“Oh, no,” says Louie. On cue, the shards light up, now blindingly bright. Louie winces and looks away but doesn’t release them. He isn’t sure if dropping them will make it worse.

The bright light materialises into some sort of person-like form. Louie can’t tell what it’s supposed to be. Evil, he guesses. It seems to have a beak. And glowing red eyes. Oh, Louie doesn’t like glowing red eyes.

“Bless me bagpipes,” mutters Scrooge.

The thing scans the room, or seems to, before its eyes land on Louie and narrow into red slits.

“Time has been disturbed!” the thing booms.

Okay, so maybe changing the timeline wasn’t as simple as he’d first thought. Scrooge had warned him about releasing an ancient evil. Technically, he still thought it was worth it to save Dewey. But why was this thing appearing now? He’d time-travelled a while ago.

Wait. Come to think of it, right now is probably about when he time-travelled in the original timeline–

Oh, yeah, that explains it.

Huey tries to stand protectively between Louie and Webby and the thing. Scrooge turns to glare at Louie, who shrinks back and drops the shards. He smiles awkwardly.

“So I released an ancient evil after all,” says Louie weakly. “Happens to the best of us, right?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, don't worry, Louie, has to happen to everyone eventually. Wouldn't be a story if it wrapped up that easily. I did some minor research to find an adventure for them, and, fun fact, looking for the lost play of William Drakespeare is actually an '87 episode! It seemed like a doable mini-adventure that we could have other disasters happen on, so, tada! Hope you guys enjoyed this new (rapidly posted???) chapter! Love you guys!


	5. Chapter 5

“Time has been disturbed!” the thing roars again.

Louie backs up slowly. He goes to raise his hands in surrender, then remembers he’s holding the shards, and quickly hides them behind his back. Okay. He can figure this out. They deal with weird monsters all the time. How bad could this one be?

“Hey, can we talk about this?” he says. “Yeah, so time has been a little bit disturbed, but for good reason. So can we maybe… let this one go?”

Louie is rewarded with another roar. He cringes back.

“I don’t think it wants to let it go,” says Huey. He’s got that “my little brother is in trouble” expression he always gets whenever Louie or Dewey are in any form of danger, the one that’s a mixture of fear and angry determination.

“It probably wants to restore the timeline!” gasps Webby. She grabs Louie’s arm. “I don’t know what you did – or stole – but just give it back and everything will be fine!”

_Thanks, Webby_ , he thought. _You have so much faith in me_.

“Yeah, that’d be great if I’d stolen something but I didn’t!” Louie protests out loud. Well. Technically he _had_ stolen the Temporal Time Stone, but he’s pretty sure that’s not why this thing is angry.

“Then what did you do?” Huey exclaims. “What even is that?”

“A time guardian,” breathes Scrooge. “It’ll undo any changes made to the timeline by removing anything or anyone that shouldn’t be here.”

“Wait, wait, wait, you mean…?”

Scrooge nods grimly. Louie’s heart sinks as the thing raises its beak into the air and sniffs, then shrieks and takes off down a hallway.

“No, no, no!” Louie starts to take off after it, but Huey grabs his hood and stops him in his tracks. “Huey! Let me _go_!”

“Not until you tell me what you did!” snaps Huey. “You messed with time? Did you _use_ the Temporal Time Stone? After Scrooge explained how dangerous it is? Why would you do that?”

“We don’t have time for this!” Louie cries.

“The lad’s right, Huey, we have to go now,” says Scrooge.

“What is that thing after?” Huey demands.

Louie jerks his hood out of his brother’s grasp and glares at him furiously. “It’s after Dewey, okay? Now _we have to go_!”

“What!?”

Louie ignores him and takes off running. He cups his hands around his beak. “Dewey! Dewey, where are you!?”

The others run after him. This is just Louie’s luck. Oh, sure, it couldn’t just be an ancient evil, it has to be an ancient evil that wants to kill his brother.

“Dewey!” calls Huey. He falls into step beside Louie, looking equal parts terrified and furious. “Why is it after Dewey? Ugh, did you both seriously use the Temporal Time Stone?”

“Dewey didn’t do anything, I’m the only one who used the Temporal Time Stone,” Louie bites out.

“Then why is it after Dewey?”

“Because Dewey is the thing that shouldn’t be here!”

“ _What_!?”

“We don’t have time for this,” says Scrooge. “Dewey!”

Huey shakes his head, gives Louie a look that says they _will_ be talking about this, then joins in shouting for their missing brother. Panic is starting to grip Louie’s insides. What if Dewey isn’t answering because the thing already got him? What if–

“Oh, hey, guys,” says Dewey.

They all skid to a stop.

“Dewey!” Louie launches forward and hugs his brother. “You’re not dead!”

Dewey laughs uneasily and pats his back. “Uh, nope. Wait, did I miss out on a booby-trap?”

On cue, the thing’s shriek echoes down the hall. Louie pushes away as Dewey’s eyes light up at the sound because, for some reason, Louie’s brother is an idiot who would rather run _towards_ danger than away from it.

“Okay, get to the plane, everyone,” says Scrooge. “Hopefully we can leave this blasted thing here. Go, go!”

They take off in the opposite direction. Louie grabs Dewey’s hand as they run to make sure the middle child stays with them. Huey seems to think it’s a great idea and grabs Louie’s other hand. Webby joins in the duckling chain which is apparently what they’re doing now.

“What’s going on?” Dewey asks. “What was that roar?”

“Long story, explain later,” says Webby. “Keep running!”

By some miracle, they make it back to the plane. Launchpad doesn’t question as Scrooge shouts at him to get them home. Louie peers out the window, but doesn’t see the thing following; he collapses into his seat.

“Okay, so, what did I miss?” asks Dewey, also peering out the window then back to the rest of them.

“Louie unleashed an ancient evil ‘cause he used the Temporal Time Stone!” Webby blurts.

“He did!?” Dewey exclaims. “Dude, no fair, I wanted to use it!”

“Hey, I only used it because I had to,” says Louie.

“When did you use it? Where did you go? _When_ did you go?”

“I used it like, today in the other timeline,” says Louie. “I only went back a week. Chill, okay?”

Dewey seems to sense that this is the end of the conversation because he slumps and pouts. Huey watches him with a furrowed brow but doesn’t bring it up.

“You can’t run off like that,” he says instead. “Who knows what was in that castle? You could have been hurt, Dewey.”

Dewey rolls his eyes. “I was bored. Geez, relax.”

“Better bored than dead,” Louie snaps. Huey’s brow furrows deeper. Louie turns away. “Huey’s right. Don’t do it again.”

A hand falls on his arm. Louie glances back again; Dewey’s expression has softened to something more worried than annoyed.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” he says honestly.

“Just be more careful,” Louie says softly. Dewey offers a small smile and nods. He puts on a seatbelt and raises his eyebrows as if to say, “See? I’m being careful.” Louie just sinks in his seat and looks anxiously out the window.

Scrooge puts a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. “With any luck, the time guardian won’t follow us home.”

Louie doesn’t have much hope for that.

 

 

Huey waits to confront him until they get back to the mansion, and he thankfully does it alone. Louie would have preferred he didn’t at all, but Louie doesn’t ever get his way, does he?

“Why did you say Dewey was the thing that shouldn’t be here?”

Louie stiffens. Huey sits next to him on his bed. He wants to flee, but he also knows better.

“Louie,” Huey says. Louie curls his fingers into the sheets. “Hey. You’ve gotta tell me what’s going on.”

“I had to do it,” he says. “It was my fault. I had to fix it.”

“Fix what?” Huey prompts. His beak twists in a frown and he looks kind of sick. “Did Dewey get… hurt? In the original timeline? Badly hurt?”

Louie looks away. Huey hesitates.

“Or worse…?” he prompts, sounding as if he’s only suggesting it so it can be shot down. Louie gets it. Before everything happened, he never could have imagined one of his brothers _dying_ , especially Dewey, who just had this way of getting out of any trouble he got himself into.

“I came back the night after his funeral,” Louie admits quietly. Huey sucks in a sharp breath. “I had to do it. I didn’t know I’d unleash an ancient evil on him, I swear, but we can beat that. If I hadn’t come back…”

“Dewey died,” Huey says numbly. Louie flinches but nods. “You didn’t have a nightmare at all. And that’s why you’ve been so – it all makes sense.”

He leans his head in his hands, eyes wide.

“You okay…?” Louie asks unsurely.

“I had no idea how close I came to losing a brother,” he murmurs. Then he shakes his head. “Am I okay? Are _you_ okay? That means you saw him–”

He cuts himself off, clearly unwilling to say it. Louie nods tensely. His eyes well with tears just thinking about Dewey’s broken body, covered in dust and blood – he shakes his head as if to physically dispel the image from his head.

“You came back to save him,” Huey states the obvious. He lets out a long breath. “Okay. So what’s the plan?”

Louie winces. “I kind of didn’t plan for any ancient evils. My plan was basically ‘don’t trip’ and that’s about it.”

“That’s a terrible plan.”

“Okay, but it _worked_!”

“Well, we need a real plan to stop this ancient evil from killing Dewey… again.” Huey grimaces and clears his throat. “Who else knows what happened?”

“Uncle Scrooge figured me out the first day,” admits Louie.

“Okay, we’ll talk to him and go from there,” says Huey. He drags Louie into a tight hug. “We’ve got this.”

Louie hugs him back. The shards in his pocket are still warm. He wonders if he should throw them in the ocean or something, or if it even matters anymore.

“I hope you’re right,” he says.

 

 

Scrooge, as it turned out, is in the midst of planning when they walk in. He’s mumbling to himself, a strange, almost crazed look in his eyes as he hovers over several books. Louie knocks on the door and Scrooge throws a stapler at him.

“I’ll not let you take my nephews, you overgrown puff of smoke!”

Louie ducks. “Woah, it’s us!”

“Oh,” says Scrooge, relaxing back into his seat and straightening his coat. “Lads. Come in.”

“We, uh, wanted to talk to you about the time… thing,” says Louie.

“Guardian,” Huey corrects. “The time guardian. And how to stop it.”

Scrooge sighs. “If I knew, I’d have done something already. But none of these blasted books are telling me _anything_ useful!”

“How long do you think we have before it gets here?” asks Louie anxiously.

“Could be days,” says Scrooge. Louie slumps in relief until his uncle continues with, “Or it could be seconds. Who knows?”

“Great,” mutters Louie.

“Wait, then shouldn’t someone be with Dewey?” says Huey, glancing between Louie and Scrooge anxiously. “You know, someone who knows, so that he doesn’t wander off and get taken or something?”

“We’ll know if that thing gets in the mansion,” says Scrooge, eyes narrowing. “I’ve set up as much security as possible. I’ll know as soon as the time guardian gets into Duckburg.”

On cue (because what is Louie’s life, some sort of twisted, cruel TV show that _won’t give him a break_!?), an alarm blares through the office. Huey cringes and slams his hands over his ears to block the harsh noise. Louie glares at Uncle Scrooge, who blurts something Louie’s pretty sure he’s not allowed to repeat.

“Go find Dewey?” Huey yells, still cringing at the alarm.

“Go find Dewey,” Louie confirms at normal volume, before sprinting out of the room. He makes a sharp turn down a hallway; there’s no telling how long it will take for the time guardian to get here and find Dewey, so Louie has to find him first. He has no idea how to stop the thing, but at the very least, it’s going to have to go through Louie to get to his brother.

He finds Dewey in the kitchen with Webby. Both look startled by Louie’s appearance – given the panic that’s slowly building in his stomach, Louie can only imagine what kind of expression he has on his face right now.

“Hey, Lou, what’s going on?” asks Dewey apprehensively.

“No time to explain,” says Louie. “We need to get to – ugh, what’s the safest place in the house?”

Webby gasps. “It’s back, isn’t it?”

“Ooh, the time thing?” Dewey asks excitedly. “Awesome!”

“Not awesome!” Louie bites out. “Newsflash, it wants you _dead_.”

Dewey gives him a dumbfounded frown. “Why does it want me dead? You’re the one who used the stone thing.”

“It just _does_ , now come on!”

He grabs Dewey’s wrist and starts running. Anywhere has got to be safer than the kitchen with all its knives and sharp things. Well, okay, Louie’s pretty sure the thing wouldn’t use the knives, but still.

“There’s a couple of secret passages this way!” Webby calls, running in front of them and gesturing down a hall. They swerve down it, but suddenly the huge, dark mass of the time guardian is in front of them. They all shriek and skid to a stop. It roars.

Webby shoots her grappling hook at the time guardian; it doesn’t do anything except annoy it, and it swats Webby into the wall. She falls to the ground with a wince and a dazed look in her eye. The wall where she hit looks as if it’s been punched with a large fist, or, apparently, the body of a small duck.

“Webby!” Dewey cries.

“I’m okay,” she manages, putting a hand to her head. “Go, run!”

It’s far too late to run. The time guardian advances on them. Louie pulls Dewey close to him and shouts, “I won’t let you have him!”

He doesn’t expect it to do much good. He expects the thing to take his brother right out from under him.

Instead, it grabs them _both_.  

The last thing Louie is aware of before passing out is Webby’s panicked scream of their names.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I'm back! So, this is a little more like my typical update schedule and still fast for me. It was hard to find any time to write this week - uni's back in session and it was a pretty bad mental health week so life happens. But this chapter was longish so hopefully that makes up a bit for the wait.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me! <3 Love you guys so much!


	6. Chapter 6

Louie awakens to his brother hovering worriedly over him. Dewey’s expression melts into relief as Louie tries to sit up and groans.

“Hey, hey, take it easy,” says Dewey.

“Where are we?” Louie manages to ask.

Dewey’s beak curls back into a frown. “I don’t know. That thing just grabbed us and – I have no idea where we are, or if the others are okay, or why it took us.”

“I can answer one of those,” mutters Louie. “This is all my fault.”

“Well, yeah, from what I’ve heard,” says Dewey. “So… why does it want us dead?”

“It doesn’t want _us_ dead, it wants _you_ dead.” Louie rubs his head and leans against the wall they’ve been deposited by. A quick survey of their surroundings tells him nothing useful. The room is dark, the walls are stone, and the time guardian is nowhere to be seen.

“Well, it took both of us.”

“Gee, I hadn’t realised,” Louie snaps.

Dewey throws his hands in the air. “Dude, calm down. We just gotta figure a way out of this like we always do. Okay? Everything will turn out fine. It always does.”

“It really doesn’t,” says Louie.

“When has it ever not turned out fine?”

“Why do you think I time-travelled? Because it sounded _fun_?”

Dewey leans back, brow furrowed.

“Well, kind of,” he admits.

“I’m not _you_ ,” Louie shoots back, which is a little harsh but it’s true. At least they’re in this mess for a good reason. Or maybe Louie isn’t putting enough faith in his brother, because they’ve had the Temporal Time Stone in this timeline for a week and Dewey hasn’t touched it yet.

“That’s fair,” says Dewey, apparently not insulted. “You’d sooner sell it then use it.”

“Also fair,” Louie concedes. He _did_ want to sell it, before Dewey died and he knew he had to use it.

He’s preparing himself for Dewey to ask what happened, but he doesn’t. Instead he starts feeling around the walls, quietly humming to himself.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Louie asks.

“I’m looking for a secret passageway,” says Dewey. He punches the wall in one place, then hisses and shakes his hand. “Nope, not there, definitely not there.”

“Punching the wall is never a good choice,” Louie deadpans.

“There’s got to be some sort of stone somewhere we can press and get out of here.” Dewey stretches to reach higher stones, grunting with the motion. He gives a couple of jumps, to no avail, and Louie sighs and walks over to his brother and helps him climb on his shoulders.

“How do you know there’s a secret passageway?”

“There’s gotta be,” says Dewey. “That thing got us in here.”

“Pretty sure it can, like, phase through solid objects.”

“That way,” says Dewey, leaning to the right. Louie groans and shimmies sideways, trying not to let the both of them topple over. Dewey makes a triumphant noise and bangs both fists on another stone. Louie’s pretty sure he’s wrong, again, except then there’s the sound of shifting stone and Dewey whispers, “Nailed it!”

“Huh,” says Louie.

“Okay, I’m going to climb in and then pull you up,” says Dewey. Before Louie can respond, the weight disappears from his shoulders as Dewey clambers into the passageway. Then Dewey’s hand appears to help Louie climb in as well. It’s a tight fit, but it’s definitely a way out. To where, Louie doesn’t know. He’s not sure he cares.

They crawl in silence. Louie blinks rapidly against the dust they’re stirring up. It’s pitch black – whatever stone Dewey had displaced had slid back into place soon after they got through.

“Woah!” Dewey suddenly yelps in front of him, nearly giving Louie a heart attack. There’s a _thud_ , followed by, “Ow. I’m okay! Careful, there’s a drop!”

Louie rolls his eyes and feels forward to the edge. He tries his best to climb down it, but ends up sliding and scraping his palms pretty badly, based on the sting. He shakes them off and stands, because now there’s room for that. He pulls out his phone and turns on the flashlight. Dewey is still sitting on the ground, rubbing his head. There’s no blood, so Louie isn’t exceedingly worried. Dewey has a hard head. He inspects his own hands. Yep, scraped. He mentally pushes that aside to check the status of his phone and the prospect of getting help.

“Ugh, there’s no service,” he grumbles. He tried to pull up the maps app, but it can’t pick up a signal either. They’re well and truly lost.

“We should keep going,” says Dewey. “The farther we are, the better, right?”

“In theory,” says Louie. He’s so glad he remember to charge his phone after they got home. The light is definitely welcome to stumbling around in the dark. Louie isn’t even sure if they’re still in McDuck Manor. It’s going to be bad if they aren’t. Without service, they’re on their own.

Dewey starts humming to himself again. Louie lets him. Dewey only hums like this when he’s worried – usually he’s big and boisterous with his singing. Anytime Dewey is subdued in any way is telling.

A loud, distant roar echoes, and Louie flinches. Dewey’s brow furrows.

“Guess it realised we’re gone,” he says uneasily.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t know where to look,” mutters Louie. He sighs and shakes his head. “How’s your head?”

“Fine,” says Dewey. “I’ve hit it way worse before. You know me.”

“Still,” says Louie.

Dewey resumes humming. Louie doesn’t recognise the song; he figures his brother probably made it up, since Dewey sometimes did that. The chorus teacher once said he had “natural talent” and Dewey hadn’t shut up for days. Dewey has “natural talent” for a lot of things, really. All Louie has is talking himself out of trouble, and even that tends to backfire. And math. He sort of has math. Math isn’t going to do him much good right now, though, so he’s basically useless.

“I know it’s not fair of me to pressure you into telling me what happened,” says Dewey abruptly, shoulders hunching. He doesn’t turn to face Louie. “But we _can_ fix this, right?”

“I hope so,” says Louie.

“You have a plan?” Dewey asks.

Louie winces. “Well. I have the start of one, but I’m told ‘don’t die’ isn’t really a plan.”

“Eh, that works.”

Louie chuckles. Typical Dewey. Dewey’s probably the last person to come up with a plan – he’s always more likely to rush ahead without thinking. Louie wonders if his brother had had a plan when he saved his life. Had he anticipated that only one of them would make it out of that cave alive?

“Dewey,” he says uneasily.

“Hmm?”

“If… if only one of us could make it out of this alive–”

“No.” Dewey stops walking and turns to face Louie. He grabs him by the shoulders. “That’s not an option, Louie, we’re both gonna be fine.”

The last time Louie had seen Dewey this serious was right before he’d been crushed by rocks, so he had a hard time believing that.

“But what if–”

“I’m not going to let you die,” says Dewey. He hugs Louie as if this is any comfort, but Louie can’t ignore that Dewey had said _you_ and not _us_ and that isn’t okay. If anything, the one who shouldn’t make it out of this is Louie. All of this is his fault to begin with.

That...

That might be a plan.

“Louie,” says Dewey, brow furrowed. “We’re going to be okay.”

Louie refuses to reply. It turns out he doesn’t have enough time to, anyway, because a split second later the right wall in front of them bursts apart in a shower of stones. Dewey grabs him and they drop to the ground. They’re out of the way of most of the stones; only pebbles rain down on the two of them, thankfully.

Louie dares to look up. The time guardian has found them. Dewey’s eyes narrow and he drags Louie to his feet.

“Run!” he yells, already pulling Louie behind him through the broken wall. Louie isn’t sure running _at_ the thing is the best choice, but it fails to catch them so it’s not the worst choice either.

Nope, never mind, it’s the worst choice – they end up outside in mid-air. They both scream as they drop several stories. Dewey wraps his arms around Louie, twisting both of them as if to take the majority of the impact.

“No – _Dewey_!” Louie protests.

They don’t hit the ground. The time guardian snatches them out of the air, and Louie is momentarily relieved. At least they won’t be duckling pancakes. Just whatever the thing decides to do to them.

“Time has been disturbed,” the time guardian growls.

“Is that all you can say?” Louie asks warily, heart still racing from the adrenaline of the sudden fall.

“Llewellyn Duck.”

Louie grimaces at his real name, then panics because _this thing knows his name_. That’s great. The ancient time guardian knows his name.

“Please don’t call me that,” he says.

“Time must be restored,” says the time guardian.

“Killing – killing Dewey isn’t going to restore anything,” he protests. “You’re way too late for that, dude.”

“Like, seriously too late,” Dewey backs him up, even though Dewey has no idea what he’s talking about. “You missed your chance! Go home!”

Its eyes narrow. Louie shoots his brother a look to tell him to be quiet and not draw attention to himself.

“Look, I get it, there are consequences to messing with time,” says Louie. “I’m willing to face them–”

“ _What?_ ”

“–but leave my family out of it.”

“ _What_!?” repeats Dewey. He twists and struggles in the time guardian’s grasp until his arms are free, then grabs Louie by the shoulders and shakes him. “What are you _doing_? This was not in the plan!”

“We didn’t have a plan,” Louie points out.

“Any plan we were going to have would not involve whatever this is,” Dewey says sharply

Louie ignores his brother. He tries to look more confident than he feels. He doesn’t know what kind of consequences there might be, and he’s kind of terrified to face them, but he’s willing to if it means keeping Dewey alive. He takes a deep breath.

“If you have to kill one of us, kill me,” he says.

Dewey yanks his face towards him, eyes wide. Louie wonders if that’s how he looked, when Dewey died.

“No,” Dewey says. He laughs – it sounds wrong. Desperate and wet and crazed. Tears gather in Dewey’s eyes as his grip on Louie’s cheeks tightens. “Louie, you’re talking crazy.” He turns his attention the time guardian. “He’s crazy. Don’t listen to him. He’s lost it.”

“Dewey, let go,” Louie says quietly.

Dewey shakes his head and tightens his grip again to the point that it’s getting painful. There’s panic in his eyes and shoulders. Louie supposes he’d feel the same way if their positions were switched.

“Dewey,” he says again, “let go of my face.”

“I won’t,” says Dewey. “You can’t make me.”

The time guardian looks thoughtful. Dewey’s crying now, tears cascading down his cheeks. Louie smiles at him. He never thought he’d be the self-sacrificial one, but he also never thought he’d see one of his brothers die. That changes people.

Louie doesn’t want to die.

But even more than that, Louie wants his brother to live.

“Do we have a deal?” he asks the time guardian.

“No deal, no deal!” begs Dewey.

The time guardian sets them both on the ground. Louie jerks away from his brother and takes a step forward, but Dewey catches his hand and shakes his head.

“Tell the others I’m sorry,” mumbles Louie. “You died for me last time. It’s my turn to die for you.”

He yanks his hand away and closes his eyes as the time guardian grabs him; the last thing he hears is Dewey sobbing his name, before the world fades away for the last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry.
> 
> Okay, first, I'm sorry this took so long to update - it's that time of the semester and school comes first, so I've only been able to grab a few minutes to work on this most days. I'm also sorry for the angst, it was an accident. This may or may not be eight chapters. we'll see how seven goes.
> 
> Thanks for all the kind comments and kudos you guys!! I love you all and hope you enjoyed this mess of a chapter!!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm writing a fic when I have other fics I should be working on but I was inspired. And, uh, this wasn't supposed to be anything like this but things spiralled a bit out of my control. Oops. Anyway, I hope you enjoy my first contribution to the DuckTales fandom! This'll be about seven chapters, and this (or next chapter) is probably the angstiest so don't worry. Love you guys!


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